


Sacrifices

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 17:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared finally makes his decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices

“Shush.” He put his hand on the girl’s arm as they sneaked into his bedroom. “Wouldn’t want to wake anyone.”

The girl giggled; she was just his type, small, blonde, big boned and large breasted, unlike any other woman in his life but he wasn’t gonna go there right now.

“Nice place,” her Texan twang couldn’t hide the admiration in her voice. She sat down on his bed and bounced once or twice. “This bed is big enough – even for you.”

“Thanks.” He sat next to her and flung a casual arm around her shoulder. She giggled again and leaned against his bicep.

“Is that you?” She pointed to the photo on top of his desk and he cursed for not moving it. “I’ve seen that picture before. Oh wow - !” She stared at him with round eyes. “I’ve seen it on TV and in old copies of _People Magazine_.” She snuggled closer. “You never told me you were famous.”

“I’m not famous.” He pulled her a little closer, fingers trying to distract her. “My dad was.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes flickered to the photo again. “I should have seen the resemblance.” Her finger came up and stroked down the side of his face. “You have his nose and his eyes.”

He sighed; the chances of getting laid tonight were dwindling and he knew he should just take this chick home. He hated talking about his past with random hook-ups and it hurt to think about his dad, made his throat close up tight, his eyes sting.

The picture on the desk stared at him almost accusingly. The young man was sitting and smiling proudly, his big hand cradling the head of a rather plump baby. The baby was sleeping, head to one side and it was obvious that this was a delighted new father and his child.

“I saw him in a film the other night.” He had forgotten the girl until she started speaking. “He was a real good actor and - .” She flushed. “So handsome.” She frowned. “Why did he stop acting?”

He had no answer, not for her. It was complicated and he didn’t want to deal with complications right now. The beer buzz that had made him so eager, and her so willing was wearing off and, in a few hours, his grandma would be up and about and he didn’t want her to find this girl in his room.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, finally, ignoring her disappointment. “See you in class,” he added, wanting to keep her interested at least, and hoping she would soon forget what she had seen. Maybe they could go back to hers next time.

“Okay.” She looked at the picture one last time and she shook her head. “Never put two and two together,” she mused. “But I should have. Guess there are not too many Padalecki’s out there in the world.”

“No,” he sighed and got to his feet, regret tinging his very being. “I guess not.”

****

There are so many photographs in the albums and he sits with them on his knee and stares. Some of the shots are professional, him and his dad, his dad and mom, the three of them posing for the camera. The rest are more casual, family photos, birthday parties and Christmas, himself as a chubby baby, a grinning, toothless toddler, a gangly adolescent. There are photos of him graduating high school and of his school prom. Photos of him fishing with his grandpa down by the lake. Photos of him helping his grandma – his mom’s mom – in her flower garden. 

At the back of one of the albums, a small red one that his dad used to keep tucked away in his study, was a picture of his dad and Uncle Jensen on the set of their TV program. They were dressed as their characters, his uncle in a battered leather jacket and patched jeans, his dad in a brown sweatshirt and baggy denim. They both looked really young and fresh faced, grinning at the camera, arms slung around each other, eyes bright. He could tell, just at a glance, how happy his dad was then, see it in his eyes, his mouth, those stupid dimples that he popped out whenever his smile was genuine. He swallowed and slammed the album shut throwing it onto the floor in childish anger and wishing, for all intents and purposes, that his dad had been a refuge man or something else super normal, because maybe then his life might have been different.

“Thomas Colton!” His grandma’s voice strident and forbidding. “What was that bang?”

“I dropped something grandma.” He got up and wiped his eyes, no idea that he was crying until the moment he felt cold water on his cheeks. “Be down in a minute.”

“Breakfast is ready and you don’t want to be late for school,” her voice softened almost as if she knew. “Important exams today. If you pass, you’ll be just a few months away from the vet program you want so much.”

He saw her at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him, and his heart clenched tight. She smiled at him and stepped back so that he could get into the huge breakfast kitchen and settle at the table.

“Guess I’ll soon be out of your hair,” he said as he reached over for the links and bacon. “Give you some peace and quiet.”

“Don’t be foolish,” his grandma, scolded. “I’ve loved having you here.” She poured him some coffee. “What are your plans for summer?”

“Mom has invited me to her condo.” He played with a grain of sugar on the table, eyes down. “Uncle Jeff asked me if I wanted to go on vacation with him and the family but . . . .” He lifted heavy eyes up so he could see her face, gauge her reactions. “I thought I might go visit dad.”

His grandma pales for a moment and her mouth is open in a perfect ‘O’. He feels instantly guilty and puts his hand over hers.

“I’m gonna graduate in a few months and I might go anywhere to study, anywhere in America, hell, even Europe if I can get the scholarship. I don’t want to go without - .” He sighs. “No one knows,” he rambles now, unable to stop himself. “I – no one knows who I am, grandma and - and I never let myself be defined by the fact I am _his_ son b-but ten years is a long time and maybe, just maybe, I should let all the bitterness go and see my dad again.”

“Thomas.”

“I’ve always listened to other people.” He feels a little desperate now, the picture on his desk fixed in his mind. “But I loved my dad, you know. I adored him. He taught me to kick a football, how to swim, how to read, how to fish and he was the center of my life for twelve years and then, then he was just gone and I’ve never been able to understand it. Gone without so much as a goodbye or a note saying where he might be going. I – it doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“He – he did it for your sake, Thomas.”

“Mom hates him! She won’t even start to talk about him. Hell, my classmates watch his films and Supernatural still shows on the Sci-Fi channel.” He wiped at his eyes feeling stupid. “There are pictures of him everywhere and yet no one talks about him.” He stared up at his grandma who just looked shocked, stunned, her eyes so sad he felt almost guilty for going down this road.

“You’re his mom,” he whispered. “Don’t you miss him?”

“Jared made his own bed when he . . . .” She shook her head and pursed her lips but Thomas leaned forward, eyes on her face.

“When he what?”

“They were always so unnaturally close, you know. Jensen was such a good boy, a real gentleman and he made Jared so happy. _Best of friends_ , he used to say and he's _just like a brother to me._ ”. She bit her lip. “Genevieve used to tease them about it. About how close they were. I don’t think she ever suspected, although lots of others did,” she sighed. “He tried, Thomas. He adored you – he adored you so much. He stayed with Gen for years because he loved you so but – but he just couldn’t hide it any longer and he had to leave – after Jensen’s divorce, he had to leave.”

“Uncle Jensen?” Thomas looked genuinely shocked, stunned almost. “What does he have to do with dad leaving?”

“Your dad left to be with Jensen,” his grandma spoke softly, gently, as if she were trying to protect him. “That is why he gave up acting, why he vanished off the radar. Jensen too.”

“Do you know where they are?” 

He didn’t know what to say but it was all becoming so clear to him now. Waking up one night to find his dad by his bedside, tall, broad, eyes slanting and tender, trying to convey some meaning, some sense into what he was saying.

_His dad had been in his early forties then and still handsome, still a heartthrob. He had made nearly ten films, three of them blockbusters, one an Oscar winner but he was still just his dad, still the man who had held him so proudly as a baby, who had carried him on broad shoulders, who had bought him a puppy and mended his bike. His dad who had been nothing more than his hero, so tall and so loud, so much larger than life._

_“Hey Tommy.” His dad had brushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. Hey, I’m really sorry but I tried.” The splattering of wet tears on his face made him sit up in bed, reaching out, his hands grabbing his dad’s wrists to hold him there._

_“Dad?”_

_“You won’t understand and your mom will hate me but I have to follow my heart, Tommy. I have to follow my heart. I – it has been nearly twenty years and I can’t - I can’t carry on like this.”_

_“Dad.” He had only ever seen his dad cry once before, that is when his beloved Sadie had died, now his dad was openly weeping, and he wondered if it were something, he had done._

_“I love you, Tommy and I want you to remember that. Okay?”_

_He’d nodded then and his dad had pulled free of his grip and stumbled out of the door. In the morning, his mom was crying, head buried in her hands and he didn’t have to ask why. Two days later, they left their home in LA and flew to his mom’s parents in Idaho. No one mentioned his dad_.

“They are in Vancouver,” his grandma was still talking, oblivious. “A small cabin far out of the city. They are living a quiet life under the radar but your dad writes to me all the time, asks about you, and sends me money,” she sighed. “You won’t need that scholarship, Thomas. You will never need for anything.”

“I need to see my dad,” he said and his grandmother nodded, her eyes sharp, and focused on his face.

“I’ll give you the address,” she said and he took it from her, crinkling it up and putting it into his pocket.

“Go and pass that exam now,” she said and he nodded, both of them pretending that they weren’t crying.

****

The cabin really was out in the wilds.

He stood and stared at it, wondering. It was small and compact, nothing like the house he vaguely remembered living in when he was up in Vancouver with his parents. He had learned to toddle on beautifully carpeted floors, wobbling precariously from sofa to chair, his mom encouraging him, his dad clapping. He had a distant memory of someone else being there, someone else lifting him up and holding him high, hugging him close. He thought now that it might have been uncle Jensen and he swallowed hard, pondering what might be waiting for him behind the closed door.

He knocked once, the sound reverberating throughout the cabin. He wasn’t surprised to hear a dog bark and he realized that his heart was beating hard and fast, his stomach rolling in something akin to fear.

The door opened and a man was silhouetted in the doorway. Thomas swallowed and moved a little closer, knowing instinctively who this person was.

Jensen Ackles must have been in his mid-fifties by now but he was still a handsome man. He was tall and broad, a little more slender than Thomas remembered, more lines around his bright green eyes, his hair now completely silver, cut short and spiky. He was wearing an old brown sweater that looked a little too big for him and patched jeans. He stared up at Thomas and the entire color drained from his face.

“Tommy?”

Even as he spoke, another figure came up behind Jensen and Thomas didn’t need to hear the intake of breath to know who it was. The man was so much taller than Jensen, his shoulders wider, his legs longer. The long hair was still chestnut with the occasional streak of grey and those exotic hazel eyes hadn’t changed, still full of love and pride and, currently, complete and utter shock.

“Dad? Daddy?” He couldn’t hold back nor did he want to. Long arms embraced him, pulled him close, closer. Hugging him, so tight he thought he might not be able to breathe. He could hear Jensen saying something but it was like an intelligible buzz in his ear and all he could think of was that his dad was here, his dad was here and it was like ten years just melted away.

****

A bottle of beer was pressed into his hand and he found himself sitting on a soft leather sofa. 

The room was small, compact, with a large entertainment center dominating it, big windows giving a panoramic view of the forest. The small kitchen was untidy, plates stacked ready for washing, a pan tipped over on the stove. Two large dogs padded around, sniffing at his legs and licking his hands randomly. Everything seemed so strange and unreal and he wondered if he was going to be able to stay conscious.

“Tommy?”

Only his dad had ever called him that; his mom had told him off constantly for shortening his name and his grandma would always call him Thomas Colton, particularly when she was angry. His dad ignored them both and he had a distant recollection of being bounced on his dad’s knees, his dad singing, _’Tommy, Tommy',_ over and over in a loud tuneless voice and his mom playfully nagging.

He took a sip of his beer before he could answer, still a little stunned. Despite the fact it had been ten years, his dad hadn’t change much. Still tall and broad, long hair still curling around his collar, still smiling.

“Yeah.”

“How did you find us?”

“Grandma gave me your address.” He flushed and stared at the floor feeling strangely ill at ease. “I wanted to . . . ,” he trailed off because he didn’t know what he wanted, what he expected, only that he was here and his dad was standing so close to him and he just needed to know why.

“You okay?” It was Jensen’s voice, soft and deep. He knelt down in front of the sofa and put his hand on Thomas’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “You look awful pale.”

“I wasn’t sure if – if - .” He swallowed down the lump that seemed to have found its way into his throat and he heard his dad make a funny, choked off noise as if he were trying to smother something. Jensen got to his feet and Thomas was aware of him sitting next to him on the sofa and putting his arm around his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said, gently. “It’s okay.”

Thomas nodded but he could feel his eyes stinging and he raised them to see his dad still standing there, staring at him, his own eyes wet. Jensen hugged Thomas a little closer and patted his shoulder.

“You’ve grown so big,” when his dad spoke, finally, his voice was gravely, wobbling as if he couldn’t control it. “You - God, Tommy, I’ve missed you.”

“Hey.” Jensen got up again and patted the sofa. “Come and sit down before you fall down. I’ll make coffee.”

Thomas felt the sofa dip and another arm came looping around his shoulder, a big hand pulling him closer, fingers stroking through his hair. He let the tears come then, pouring down his cheeks freely and he heard his dad’s sharp intake of breath.

“Grandma said you’d moved here to be off the radar,” he said, when he could finally speak. He had so many questions, so much to say but none of it seemed so important now, all he wanted was to sit here next to his dad and feel that familiar warmth, smell the scent of old spice and candy, close his eyes and imagine he was a child again, cradled in those strong, protective arms.

“Yeah, we had it built specially. It’s near enough to town when we want to go shopping and no one knows us around here - well not anymore, and even if they do they tend to keep quiet about it.”

Thomas nodded; the question had been building up in his mind for a long time and it was almost bursting out of him so he was unable to hold it back.

“Why?” It had no bearing on anything but it was hurting him to keep it in. “Why did you have to leave?”

He heard his dad swallow, felt his arm tense around him. In the kitchen Jensen clattered the coffee cups loud and heavy, milk spilling onto the surface. There was a tension in the air and Thomas could feel it. He watched as the two older men exchanged glances, the expressions on their faces almost unreadable.

“I never wanted to leave you,” his dad’s voice was wavering and he pulled at Thomas so that he had to face his dad, look at him, meet his gaze for the first time in ten years. “You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I was so proud of you. I still am, but – but . . . .” He wiped at his eyes furiously and lowered his head, bangs falling over his face and making him look, for all the world, like Sam Winchester again. “But you were the only thing keeping the glue holding our marriage together and I-I felt as if I was trapped and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to end up resenting you or your momma.”

“You could still have seen me.” He felt like a little boy again, vulnerable and frightened, wanting his daddy to make things right.

There was a pause and he saw them exchange glances again, talking to each other without opening their mouths, eyes saying so much more than mouths ever could.

“No.” His dad’s voice was low and stark. “I couldn’t. Your mom – she . . . .”

“Why did you leave?” He tried again, the pain in his throat making it hard. “I loved you dad. I needed you.”

“I know.” His dad bit his lip and shook his head. There was a long pause, silence echoing tellingly around the small room. Thomas knew then, guessed he had always known, known it since his grandma had mentioned Jensen’s name, maybe known it even longer, now though he was finding it hard to put into words.

“You – you’re together,” it came out quick and garbled and he didn’t want to say it. Saying it was admitting that his dad, his hero, the man he had looked up to was gay.

“For a long time,” Jensen spoke from the kitchen. “Long before you even came on the scene.”

“That true?” He didn’t want it to be but he could see by the look in his dad’s eyes that it was. He swallowed and only the tightness of that strong arm around his shoulder kept him from pulling away.

“I was with Sandy when I met Jensen and as far as I am aware I’d never been gay, never even looked at another man,” his dad sounded hesitant, scared almost. “We hit it off straight a way, the two of us, just got on so well together. All those hours on set and we still spent our spare time in each others company.” His dad smiled, wistful, as if he were looking back and Thomas saw the young man in him again, saw those dimples, a soft longing in his eyes. “It was never meant to be more than a friendship but – but I think we both fell pretty fast.”

Thomas kept quiet; he had the feeling that he was the first person to ever really hear the truth, to ever really know. He bit his lip and thought of all the girls he had sneaked into grandma’s house, of how his life had centered around lessons, beer and getting laid. He had often wondered what it was like to fall in love but he hadn’t yet and he tried to understand.

“We were both men playing brothers on national TV so we didn’t push it – not really but it got harder and harder and then, after Sandy, Jensen moved in with me and we . . . that is when we . . . .” He stopped and rubbed his eyes. Jensen moved swiftly then, so that he was suddenly perched on the chair arm, big hand resting on his dad’s shoulder, moss green eyes looking at Thomas, pleading with him to understand. “We tried to keep it a secret but we weren’t very good at hiding it. Fans at conventions and on the internet used to talk about the _chemistry_ between us, and take pictures of us. I couldn’t stop looking at him like the sun shone through his eyes. It was like an epic romance but it wasn’t. It was hard and painful and when the network got wind of it they told us to cool it.”

“But you were with mom,” he knew he sounded as if he was whining. “You had me.”

“We tried to give it a break; we stopped.” His dad flushed and Jensen squeezed his shoulder. “We stopped everything, and tried to go back to being friends again. Jensen was dating Danneel and I met your mom. She was smart, intelligent, funny and we hit it off. I thought maybe we could make a go of it. We rushed into an engagement and marriage but – but I just couldn’t stop loving Jensen.” He flushed again and Thomas fumbled for his hand, held it in his, tight and solid. He heard his dad’s sharp intake of breath and he held on even tighter. “I hated myself,” he continued. “I was with your mom but I was seeing Jensen, too. We were unfaithful. We were always trying to get time together and we swore once the program was over we were going to come clean and come out.”

Thomas didn’t speak, he couldn’t; his throat was as dry as dust and his head ached. He wished he was young again, wished he was that baby in the picture, so warm and content in daddy’s arms.

“Then your mom told me she was pregnant and everything changed.” His dad looked at him then, really looked. “I never really thought about kids. Those days, all I really thought about was Jensen.” He flushed. “I was angry, Tommy. I was angry with your mom because she had gotten pregnant when neither of us were ready, stressed because it meant that I would have to accept my responsibilities, hurt because it meant less time with the man I loved but then you were born and it all seemed so unimportant. I loved you from the moment I saw you and Jensen knew that.”

“I swore I’d never make him choose,” Jensen’s voice was so low Thomas hardly heard him. “And I never did.”

****

The silence was telling; Jensen got up and nodded, almost to himself.

“I’ll make that coffee now,” he said.

Thomas knew his dad was crying again; he could hear the soft hitching of his breath, little aborted sniffles like he was trying to hide it. Thomas had never felt so miserable in his life, not wanting to be the catalyst for all of this, wishing he had never disturbed the domestic peace.

“Don’t think like that!” From the kitchen Jensen’s voice was strident and Thomas’s heart lurched.

“You readin’ minds now?” His dad’s voice was wobbly but amused and Thomas felt a reluctant laugh burst out of his chest. His dad laughed too and he kept his grip on Thomas’s hand, holding it as if it were a lifeline.

“I can read it in your son’s face.” Jensen came back into the living room and handed out steaming cups of coffee. “His eyes, those stupid dimples, it is like looking at you all over again.”

Thomas blushed; felt his cheeks redden. He knew he looked a lot like his dad, same slanting eye shape, wide nose and messy hair. He had his mom’s coloring though, dark hair and brown eyes. _A good mixture of both parents_ , his grandma often said and he knew his looks went a long way, knew he attracted women in the same way his dad had done when he had first started acting and he was proud of the fact that he had such good genes.

“Don’t ever regret coming here,” his dad said, finally. “I have lived on photos of you and word of mouth for way too long. Your grandma sends me long letters and rings me twice a year; birthdays and Christmas.” He smiled wryly. “Its not enough, Tommy; to see you, see what a man you have become.” He wiped at his eyes and Thomas leaned into him, unable to stop himself.

“You said Jensen didn’t make you choose,” Thomas said, at last, when the coffee had warmed his gut. “But you are here.”

“I tried.” His dad breathed in hard through his nose and rubbed his forehead. “We bought two lovely houses – one in LA and one here in Vancouver. I gave your mom everything she asked for and more. I did my best to be a good husband, a great father. We were happy enough and being a dad was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. I kept acting and, after Supernatural finished, I kept away from Jensen. It was painful but for the best, I thought maybe I could really make a go of it, try to love your mom and look after both of you.”

“What happened?”

“I heard that Jensen divorced and it had been so long. I rang him up just to see how he was doin’, you know. We just talked and talked. He was in LA and so was I, so we arranged to meet. You were nearly twelve then – getting on in school, so clever, so smart. I figured it would be okay.” 

His dad stopped talking for a moment and buried his head in his hands. Jensen was a silent presence beside him but at that moment he shook his head and looked at Thomas, moss green eyes gentle.

“Guess you’ve never been in love,” he said. “When we saw each other again it was like the floodgates had been opened up and every single emotion came pouring out. We – um – we spent the night together and the next night too. It was obvious that nothing had changed.”

Thomas nodded, he wished he could understand how it felt to be so much in love with someone, wished he didn’t feel so sick, so confused. He remembered his mom crying at the breakfast table, his grandma’s anger and he bit his lip hard.

“I came home and asked your mom for a separation,” his dad was still speaking. “She was angry because she knew why. She told me if I left then she would fight me through every court in the land for custody of you. She told me she wasn’t going to let you get _‘tainted’_ by my lifestyle choices. She said, she would _out_ me to every publication there was and that she would take me for every dime.” His dad shuddered. “I don’t blame her. No one could blame her for being angry. We had tried, we had a life but it just wasn’t what I wanted, Tommy.”

“So you left.”

“I wanted to take you with me but I couldn’t take you from your family. Your grandma and granddad weren’t speaking to me, my brother and sister were fairly cold about it all. I wanted to carry on seeing you but the thought of dragging it all through a court was too much. I-I considered giving up Jensen again, letting sleeping dogs lie but I couldn’t. I wanted him. We needed each other and it was a chance of happiness for us both.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know why he was apologizing but he could see, hell he could virtually feel, the love between his dad and Jensen. He could see it in their body language, their looks, hear it in their voices and he couldn’t deny it.

“You have nothing on earth to be sorry about.” His dad was close again, holding him, arms around his shoulder as if he was never going to let go. “Jensen swore never to make me choose but I knew I had to.”

Thomas nodded, he understood, he did, but that didn’t take away the fact that he hadn’t seen his dad for ten years that they had lost a whole decade together. He wanted to blame someone, wanted to scream and shout in anger at his mom for being so stubborn, at his dad for choosing someone else over him, at Jensen for taking his dad away. In the end though, he realized, it was no ones fault, that it had just happened. He swallowed down his anger and forced a smile on his face.

“You gave it all up,” he whispered. “Your family, your career, everything. You gave it all up, for love.”

“Yeah.” His dad was pale now, color drained from his cheeks. “If you want to look at it like that, I guess I did.”

“So you moved here, stopped acting, stopped seeing your family,” Thomas continued. “What do you do?”

“I have enough money not to do anything but I help out at the local animal shelter, I go to the gym, I go for long walks with the dogs. Jensen does some modelling. We manage just fine.”

“Grandma says you send money for my schooling.”

“Have done since you were twelve and I left. Nice little trust fund that should see you through. You want to be a vet don’t you? That’s cool.”

Thomas felt drained suddenly, he ached all over and felt as if he were coming down with something. His eyes hurt and he just wanted to close them, rest for a while, take it all in.

“You can stay here if you want,” his dad sounded almost too eager. “We have a guest room for when friends come and stay. I guess your mom will be angry and your grandma will never forgive me but I don’t much care anymore. I stayed away from you because they asked me to but I don’t want to stay away any longer.”

Thomas smiled, weakly. He was old enough now to make his own decisions and he knew what he wanted. He cuddled into his dad as if he were two rather than twenty-two, reveling in the solid warmth, feeling just like a little boy again.

“I’d love to stay,” he said and his dad smiled, dimples deep in his cheeks, grin wide and genuine, his happiness easy to see.

****

He lay on the bed in the guest room; the curtains were drawn and he could hear the dogs pattering about in the kitchen, huffing and grumbling until they decided to lie down and settle with him lying across his feet and sighing happily.

Upstairs he listened acutely as his dad and Jensen got ready for bed. He heard the toilet flush, the facet turn on and off, the sound of someone brushing their teeth. He knew that he should be freaked out at the fact that they would be up there sleeping together but he wasn’t, it seemed natural and right, as if his dad and Jensen had been made for each other.

He never saw his mom and dad like that; they always seemed tense in each others company. His mom sharp and over-possessive, his dad laid back and easy going. They had laughed together but only over him. He had seen pictures of his mom and dad on the red carpet and at movie events and he had never once seen them look at each other the way that his dad and Jensen did.

He smiled wryly as he settled back onto the mattress, yawning, as sleep overtook him.

He was part of an epic love story and he was proud of the fact.

****

He stayed; possibly a little longer than intended and he had a real chance to see just why his dad had made the decision to leave his family and to set up home with Jensen.

They were like an old married couple. It was the only way to describe it, the only way to put it into context. Once the intensity, the shock of his arrival wore off, they appeared to relax and fall into what was, obviously, familiar to them. They bickered, they laughed, they went about their daily lives and Thomas felt so at home with them, happier than he had been for a while.

It was wonderful to watch, to be part of. His dad would get up early, the same bundle of energy that Thomas remembered from his childhood. His dad would take the dogs and go jogging, returning to Jensen who had made them breakfast, always something sweet and sinful. His dad would poke Jensen in his belly and tease him about _being chubby_ whilst Jensen would laugh and shake his head, telling his dad he had, _far too much oomph and should lay off the candy_. 

Thomas went with his dad to volunteer in the animal shelter and it was clear that, despite what his dad and Jensen thought, most people seemed to know who they were. He saw shop girls blush, secretaries lower their heads and act coy. They never reacted, never said anything and it was almost as if this small part of Vancouver was protecting _its_ boys. 

It had been a week and he knew he had to go home. His results would be out soon and he had promised his friends he would be around to party. Since arriving he had had several texts from his mom and he knew, by her tone, that she wasn’t happy but he was going to have to talk to her because he had his dad back in his life and he wasn’t going to lose him again.

The day he left everything ached again and he was trying hard to keep himself from crying. His dad was unusually quiet, not eating and staring at Thomas hard as if he were trying to imprint him to memory. 

“I want you to take a picture of us.” Thomas handed his camera to Jensen. “The one I have – um – my favorite is that old People shot for Father’s day.”

“You’re kiddin' me right?” His dad smiled weakly. “You were just a baby.”

Thomas flushed; he loved that shot, loved the pride in his dad’s face, the way he was held, the utter protectiveness. He wanted something more now, wanted it so badly.

“Please.” He nudged his dad’s shoulder.

“Not just something to remember me by?” His dad sounded panicked and Thomas saw Jensen looking at him with that same fierce expression, one that said _hurt this man and I’ll kill you_.

“No, it's for my wallet – for school.” He grinned. “You’ll come up and see me graduate, won’t you dad? Bring Jensen.”

It was a big ask and he knew it, knew the rest of the family wouldn’t be happy to see his dad but he didn’t care. He needed this and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

His dad hesitated and Jensen paled beside him. Thomas stood firm, camera in hand and then, to his relief, his dad smiled, that real, dimpled grin and nodded.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

****

Thomas got into the cab and turned back to wave. His dad and Jensen were standing on the porch close together but not touching. Thomas swallowed hard, his throat thick, tears trickling down his cheeks. He understood now that the sacrifice his dad made was not giving up his family for Jensen but giving up Jensen for his family. Thomas had had his dad for twelve good years, years where he was growing up, years where his dad had been his biggest influence right down to his dress sense and stupid floppy hair and to his love for animals. His dad had loved Jensen but he had loved Thomas more and it must have been difficult for him to make that decision, that sacrifice and Thomas couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him for grabbing hard at his second chance of happiness.

He waved as the cab pulled away, waved until the two figures had all but faded away. He felt lighter suddenly as if his whole life was back on track and he couldn’t help but be excited for the future. He hoped he would meet someone that he would love as much as his dad loved Jensen, he hoped that his relationship would be more straight forward. He wanted to give his mom (and his dad) grand-kids and he wanted his family back together again.

He had been the catalyst once so maybe, just maybe, he could be again.

He smiled to himself as he pulled the photograph out of his wallet. Jensen had printed out more than either of them needed but he didn’t mind. 

He was snuggled up to his dad, the two of them the same height, heads pressed close together, arms slung around each others shoulders and grinning for all they were worth. Despite his age his dad still looked tanned, healthy and attractive and Thomas was proud that he could see the resemblance now.

He couldn’t wait to get back to his friends; there would be no more hiding, no more pretending, no more embarrassment when people put two and two together and realized that he was Thomas Colton Padalecki, son of the famous actor Jared. No, now he was going to get that photograph out of his wallet and show it around to everyone, now he was going to hold his head up high and let everyone see. 

“Hey everyone,” he would say, choking a little, remembering Jared’s sacrifices, Jared’s choices. “This is my dad.”

End


End file.
